Catharsis
by ThnksFrThMmrs87
Summary: Catharsis: the purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions. Stella doesn't know how to do that, but Flack is always there to help her


Note From The Author—This all comes from the burning desire I had to scream and punch something after watching last night's episode of CSI, and that was after crying so long and hard that my mascara streaked all the way down my face. I'm still too aggravated to even attempt to write a story for CSI, so I'm taking my frustrations out in a NY story and praying that the New York finale doesn't end that badly.

Disclaimer—I don't own the characters of CSI:NY

The injustice of it all made her want to scream. Four infants; they had found four infants dead in the past two weeks. Little children who had barely had a chance at life killed and tossed away like yesterday's trash.

After they finally caught the bastard responsible she was more furious than she ever thought possible. Not an ounce of remorse, not a hint of guilt or any emotion other than glee. He just sat there with that twisted smile on his face, talking through what he'd done to those innocent little babies as calmly as he'd discuss the day's weather.

When he'd turned those sadistically delighted eyes on her and made a suggestive comment she completely lost it. She was over the table in an instant, and though she felt Flack's arms around her, trying to pull her back, she couldn't stop herself. Don finally wrested her away from the suspect and pulled her from the room. The door closed behind them, blocking out the screams of the suspect who swore he would sue.

Stella was still seething. She was so livid that she barely registered Flack talking to the other detectives and uniforms and leading her out of the precinct until the cool night breeze hit her face. "Don…"

He turned to her with his face set. "You need to cool off Stell, and you're done for the night; don't argue with me."

She was entirely stunned by his firm resolve. "Okay," she spat out. She felt a bit like she was being manhandled as he yanked open the car door and guided her in, but the way her temper was on edge she gritted her teeth and decided not to say anything. She never even thought to ask where they were going, but since he had never been to her new apartment she could only assume they were headed to his place.

They pulled to a stop and she shoved the door open and slammed it shut. She'd been to his place before so she headed up the stairs, not even bothering to stop to wait for him. She could hear his footsteps falling behind her and felt the anger that she'd managed to somewhat calm on the car ride building again. Little did she know his anger was building to match.

He muscled around her to unlock the door and walked in, leaving her to her own devices. For a moment Stella considered just walking back down the stairs and getting in a cab, but she knew he wouldn't let it alone until they hashed out whatever it was that was on his mind. So she stepped through the door and shut it behind her.

She immediately found herself in a confrontation. Flack, who was stripping out of his suit jacket, whirled around to face her. "What the hell was that Stell?"

"You know exactly what that was Don," she answered. She pulled roughly out of her own jacket and dropped it to the floor.

He ran a hand jerkily through his hair. "Yeah I know what it was. But bottom line Stell, you get in their faces, you screw with them, you don't physically attack them."

"Don't pretend you've never lost control, we both know you have. We all lose control."

"We all don't go over the table and try to throttle the suspect, no matter how much they deserve it!"

Stella threw her hands up. "God, don't you think I know that? You know how much I hate losing control, but I just…"

"You just what Stell?" he asked, his voice gentling some.

She dropped to the couch, her head in her hands. "This one was hard, so hard."

He sat down next to her. "I know it was hard. It was just as hard for me as it was for you."

"I know. I know how hard it was for all of us. I just feel like screaming and crying and throwing things because of the injustice of it all."

"So do."

She looked up, her eyes wide. "What?"

Flack stood. "Scream, cry, and throw something. I know you're afraid to wear your emotions out there for everyone to see, but whatever you do tonight won't leave this room." He picked up a pillow and tossed it at her. "So let it out Stell."

For a moment she sat as if rooted to the spot. "I'm not sure I know where to start."

"Easy." He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Scream."

"Seriously?" she asked skeptically. "Don't you have neighbors?"

"Yeah, I do. If anyone asks I'll tell them I was watching a movie. Scream."

She looked up at him, still hesitant. He had her fixed with an unwavering gaze and she knew that until she let some of this pent up emotion out, he wouldn't let it go. So she opened her mouth and she screamed. She screamed until she lost her breath and she felt her voice go hoarse. "God," she panted.

"Good. Throw something."

"Like what?" she questioned.

Don tossed her a pillow. "Like that."

He dodged out of the way as she hurled the pillow across the room. Before she knew it there was another in her hands then another. Soon she didn't even register what she was picking up; whatever she found in her reach flew across the room. It wasn't until she heard the explosive shatter of glass that she came back to herself. "God, I'm sorry," she moaned.

"I'll get another." She was going through stages, and he could tell that the emotional roller coaster she was on was about to crash. He stepped towards her and caught her easily when her knees gave out. "Stell," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "I get so tired of it all sometimes. Will there ever be a world where innocent people aren't killed thoughtlessly?" Tears were pouring down her cheeks. "Are we ever going to stop seeing babies and toddlers and teenagers left for dead in the streets just because someone decided they should be there?"

"I don't know. I've always got hope, but I can't say that it's ever going to get better."

"I stood in autopsy and I looked down at those tiny little babies and listened to Sid cry while he went through it all with us. It's times like these that I wonder if there's any point to doing what we do." She felt torn in about thirty different directions, her emotions tossing her all over the place. She didn't take comfort very often but she knew well enough to know when she just needed to be held.

Don sank to the couch with her still in his arms. "There's a point Stell. We make a difference, no matter how small."

With her head in the crook of his neck and his hands stroking soothingly over his hair she let herself be comforted. Even then she still felt unsettled, and she couldn't help the whisper that escaped against his chest. "I wish it were enough."


End file.
